Looking Forward : God's will
by EleanorKate
Summary: Major spoiler for S3 if you've not read a certain newspaper article. Shelagh and Chummy continue their talks.
1. Chapter 1

"Come here, sleepy head" Chummy murmured, taking the untroubled body of her son from the floor of the sitting room where he had been dozing for at least the past half hour.

"We can't have you falling asleep like a tramp any old where!" she laughed as he protested in his sleep before the fifteen month old opened his eyes for seconds, checking who had rudely disturbed his rest, before succumbing again.

"You, young Sir, need to say goodnight to your Daddy before he goes to work". She never referred to Peter as his Father or 'Pa' as she had has a child to her own. Life was going to be different for Freddie Noakes and Peter was going to be Daddy, Dad or currently 'Dada'.

Chummy trudged up the stairs, Freddie out like a light again, as Peter met her at the top, freshly shaved and about to don the last of his uniform. He suppressed a smile.

"Was he asleep on the floor again?" he asked, seeing the rumpled state of his son.

"One has no idea why he prefers the floor. He wasn't even asleep on the hearth rug!" she commented as she followed him into the bedroom.

"He sleeps" Peter replied. "That's all we need to be grateful for".

"And you know his naps tend to strike without warning!"

Chummy nodded as she sat with her son, blissfully curled up in her arms on the edge of the bed. That was one thing that she had not perhaps reflected on. Since the drama of the way he had entered the world and whilst it had not been plain sailing all the way, he was generally quite a good natured young chap who ate and slept and hit all of the milestones he needed to right on time. Her worries that he may have been harmed during the traumatic birth seemed to be slowly slipping away.

"What time is Shelagh arriving?" Peter asked, regulation tie being tucked under his shirt collar. He had expressed many a time how he was pleased that this friendship had been forged.

"At 7" his wife replied, taking the small hand of her son as even in sleep he grabbed hold of her.

"Say hello to me for her?" he asked.

"I will" Chummy said, smiling down at her sleeping son.

"I was asking the baby" he said, leaning down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"He will dribble all over her, I know that".

"More teeth?" Peter replied. Teeth had been Fred's main affliction and the cause of recent snuffles and the temperatures that went with them but the teething ring Cynthia had bought him when he was born certainly did the trick even though it had been chewed and chewed already and any teeth more, it would need replacing.

"I think so" she replied, "I can feel one of his canines under his gum".

"Poor little chap" Peter replied, pulling up his braces before addressing his wife. "You say 'hello' to Shelagh for me instead then".

Some time later, Chummy let Freddie slip from her knee to stand holding tight to her skirt as he gained his balance carefully negotiating a turn before Shelagh felt his hand take hold of her skirt too as he set off around the back of the settee.

"I cannot believe he is so mobile now" Shelagh commented, checking where he had gone to.

"He's 15 months of monster!" Chummy replied. "Opened the cupboard under the stairs the other day and as quick as a flash he was in there! I could well have shut him in if he had not fallen over my shopping basket on the way in".

Shelagh laughed as Fred reappeared around the other side of the settee, giggling to himself as he stepped carefully towards her.

"This is his party piece", Chummy continued. "He sometimes tries to walk around our bed until he realises there is a wall in the way!"

"Seela" he uttered, pointing a finger at their guest.

"Yes, young man?" 'Seela' replied, quite used to the way Chummy's 'young Sir' addressed her on what had been numerous visits to the house these past months that had meant that he had come to readily recognise her. Her name was one of the many words he had now randomly picked up and every day Chummy looked forward to a new one that he would show off to his Daddy and the Sisters endlessly.

"Drink" he said, both seeing he was eyeing up the tea cups in front of them.

"Drink _please_!" Chummy gently scolded, even though the concept of 'please and thank you' was well and truly over his head there was no harm in him getting used to the word. "He likes cold tea" she said before looking at her watch. "One doesn't know how he bears it".

"I do think though Fred Noakes" she carried on, seeing Shelagh watch him with a smile. "It is actually your supper time let alone having a drink".

"Do you mind awfully helping me with him?" Chummy said. "I might burn our supper whilst I am there as well if I have to concentrate on that and him flinging food all over the kitchen!"

"Really?" Shelagh asked as they both stood up, her companion seeing the boy picked up and installed on his mother's hip.

"Not all the time", Chummy laughed. "He has always been a tiny bottomless pit!" she said affectionately kissing her son on the side of his head. "But when he finds something he likes he treats it with enthusiasm!"

In the kitchen she placed Fred in his high chair at the side of the table and Shelagh sat too, employed to entertain whilst supper was prepared.

"How did you know you were expecting him?" Shelagh asked, as she 'danced' with Fred as he sat in his chair, infectious giggles filling the whole room.

"Well apart from the obvious, it was the coffee blossoms outside the mission" Chummy replied, remembering that time well as she busied herself. "When we first went to Sierra Leone I loved the smell and they were beautiful to look at but all of a sudden they would make me feel so bilious. One already had an inkling when we left Poplar but it was that that did it. I had to walk around to the back door of the Mission to get in there for three weeks because one could not even pass the front door. It was as though I could smell them for miles".

"Was Peter pleased?" Shelagh asked, seemingly mesmerised by the boy that was smiling at her as he waited for his supper.

"Yes. He was. I knew how much he wanted a family". That discussion had been had long before they married.

_"__He _wanted?" Shelagh asked noticing what she hoped was only a slip.

_"__We _wanted", Chummy replied, correcting herself. Despite the fact she had been at war with herself, she realised long ago that she was wrong.

Chummy passed Shelagh a plastic bowl and spoon, filled with Fred's current favourite. Apple Sauce.

"Don't let him near the spoon" she continued, having borne witness to the mess Fred could create with soggy food. Dryer food she had no problems in allowing him to try to feed himself but she was not in the mood for one of Fred's attempts at redecorating the kitchen. Another day maybe.

"Have you thought about having another one?" Shelagh asked, scooping a spoonful of his supper into Fred's waiting mouth as Chummy set out about plates and cutlery.

"Do you know I was looking through all of his old clothes a fortnight ago" Chummy said, turning back to Shelagh, folding her arms across herself, "thinking I might give them to the Sisters for the charity box and Peter saw me. He dropped a subtle hint about another one".

"Well it wasn't even a hint or even subtle when I think about it!" she continued with a laugh. "He may as well have just clubbed me over the head and towed me back to his cave!"

Shelagh laughed at the image, Fred squealing in accompaniment wondering where the next spoonful was coming from, trying to make a grab for the utensil in Shelagh's hand. "Did you take the clothes to the Sisters?"

"No", Chummy smiled. "Lord help me if I after my mother in that regard but one can't say one is now trying to prevent his brother or sister!"

She could see Shelagh's face and it was clear there was something worrying her; all these questions about Freddie. Chummy paused, realising she had perhaps been too jolly about the whole thing.

"Has Dr Turner said something to upset you?"

Shelagh shook her head, a spoonful later swiping Fred's chin with his bib. "No, not intentionally".

"But?" Chummy asked, sitting down.

"Oh! We were talking about Timothy; how independent he seems to be getting even with the calipers and Patrick said how pleased he was that he wasn't a crying baby anymore. It wasn't meant badly or anything and it was only an offhand comment, but then it occurred to me that he might not welcome the baby".

_"__The_ baby?!" Chummy exclaimed, eyes brightening.

_"__A_ baby" Shelagh corrected herself, taking another spoonful to Fred's mouth.

"So you are not?"

"No" Shelagh replied, tucking her cardigan further around herself. "Chummy, in 6 weeks' time it will be a year since we married. You were 8 months pregnant on your first wedding anniversary". She had been thinking about the comparison far too much these last days.

Chummy smiled remembering that boat trip to Cadiz, unable to sleep, so uncomfortable after they had shared an anniversary walk around the deck. With Fred coming early, the promise of a 'proper anniversary when we get back' had not materialised.

"Yes", she replied. "One is hoping that it isn't going to be like that for the next 10 years though but young Sir clearly wanted to be here", Chummy concluded, brushing her son's dark locks from his forehead. "I think three children would be nice".

"I'd like one. One of mine and Patrick's. Timothy is such a lovely boy but in a few years' time he will be off on his own life and Patrick might just not want another child".

"Has he said so?"

"No" Shelagh replied, "but it feels as though time is running away and nothing has happened and if it goes on much longer I cannot imagine he will want a teenager in the house when he is retired!"

"Dr Turner will never retire!" Chummy replied, before a thought struck her.

"There's no trouble in the er…physical aspects?" she asked, feeling confident to ask her friend. She had known herself how petrified she had been regarding her wifely duties and had been greatly relieved that he had not grown bored of her.

"Oh no!" Shelagh replied, quite pleased that her skin did not turn pink. "All is satisfactory and in order".

"Good", Chummy mused. "There is something immorally congenial about the whole thing though, do you not think?" She got up again remembering the drink her son had been requesting some time ago.

"Do you know it's a relief to be able to talk to someone. Every month I have prayed and every month I've failed him".

"You are not a failure" Chummy replied, even though she knew that feeling all too well herself. "Do you really think Patrick would think that? He's probably oblivious to the whole thing. There will be a reason for it and it will happen eventually". Chummy nearly said 'have faith' but it was probably inappropriate so she refrained.

"Except 'eventually' was quickly with you" Shelagh replied, seeing Fred's yellow lidded cup full of milk, complete with bear adorning its side passed to him carefully by his mother.

"Cups already hey Freddie?" she said distracted as he attached himself to the cup, kicking away at his wooden chair.

"He worked out he could get more out of a bottle than me and then even more out of a cup than a bottle. When Peter gives him his suppertime milk though he still prefers a bottle. They keep having these man to man chats over Whiskey and milk and I stay out of the way!"

Shelagh smiled wistfully. "Patrick is a doctor. I can't think that he hasn't at least wondered why".

"If you are worried, have you thought about seeing a doctor? A _different_ doctor" Chummy asked. "I could ask Dr Clarke at St Thomas' if he knows anyone that may be able to help. He doesn't have to know I am asking for you".

Chummy sighed as her friend stared longingly at Freddie as he metaphorically batted his eyelashes at her over the edge of his cup. It had occurred to her that she might not be able to give Peter a family, but with Freddie those fears had been assuaged. Still, who was to say that he might not be their one and only and she might just be as concerned in a year or twos time?

"Do you want me to ask?" she said.

"What can they do?" Shelagh replied. "Tell me what I already know? I have been to the library and Tuberculosis can make you infertile. It shan't be Patrick - he has Timothy". A thousand reasons had turned through her mind but it had to be her illness.

"Shelagh, you are a wonderful to Timothy. He adores you. And Aunty 'Seela' to Freddie". She took her friend's hand. "At least try to find out if the doctors can help" Chummy continued as she saw Shelagh shake her head. She had read too much in the library of 'calcified fallopian tubes' and 'blocked passages' to know that medical science could not assist. It would be a miracle for her to have a child.

"God does work in mysterious ways sometimes" Chummy said. "Have we both not seen that ourselves these last few years?"

"Yes we have," Shelagh replied, quietly. "My life took such a turn. Perhaps I have angered God by my choice to leave the Sisterhood, perhaps this was never meant to be for that reason and He has found a way to punish me".

_ ''Vengeance is mine" _Shelagh breathed_, "I will repay, says the Lord. And again, the Lord will judge his people. It is _a_ fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God''._

"Hebrews Chapter ten, thirty to thirty one", Chummy responded. "God is also just, Shelagh and when you stand in front of him, he will be so".

"When I stand before him is not _now_ Chummy", Shelagh replied, eyes brimming with tears.

"Now, now" Chummy said, reaching across again to her friends hands again. "There will be a child out there for you somewhere; there will be. He has reasons for everything and yes, sometimes we do not understand them, but you made such a decision that He might simply be guiding you to an altogether different path again".

Shelagh nodded.

"I wish He would make that known to me" she whimpered as Chummy, seeing the tears that were overflowing now, ran around the side of the table, arms around her friend.

"He will. He will" she soothed.

"One day He will. _Soon_ He will".


	2. Chapter 2

"What on earth is that child doing?!" Sister Evangelina exclaimed as she stepped into the sitting room.

"Sorry Sister!" Cynthia replied, retrieving Freddie from where he had decided to entrap himself. The sight of a backside poking out from between two settees had just topped off what had been a trying morning.

"Where is his mother?" she asked.

"With Sister Julienne, Sister" Cynthia responded, guiding Freddie backwards and positioning him on her hip. "She's arranging to see if she can have some time off with Peter's examinations coming up".

"Oh yes" Sister Evangelina replied, remembering. "But does she intend to take all day about it? We are not running a nursery here!"

"No Sister", Cynthia replied, meekly, but more than happy to look after Freddie at any given chance she could.

"Good" she countered, as the baby wriggled out of Cynthia's arms, heading straight towards the Sister, arms wide, expecting attention.

"Why does the boy always have to wear that look?" she muttered as he arrived at her side. "Two seconds young man, some of have calls to go to". Sister Evangelina picked the boy up when almost simultaneously his mother arrived.

"Well?" Cynthia asked.

"The entire week!" Chummy replied, excitedly. "One just needs to find occupation for the Lord and Master here to keep him out of his Daddy's way now so that he has some peace!"

"Examinations at last?" the Sister asked handing child over to mother so she could go on her way.

"Yes Sister" she replied.

"Well tell Constable Noakes he will be in our thoughts", the Sister responded softly.

"I will" Chummy smiled.

"So when's the first one?" Cythia asked as soon as sister Evangeline was out of earshot.

"Friday. Mathematics and Numerical reasoning" she replied, the timetable for that dreaded week already engrained in her mind.

"Ouch!" Cynthia responded

"I nearly borrowed the abacus from Sister Julienne's office and took it home as a jest but then I realised one would just end up annoying him. But Friday's arrangements are already made".

"So where are you going then?"

"Timothy's school team is playing cricket and Shelagh has asked us to go. Poor chap can't play as his legs won't let him but he's helping with refreshments and it might be a nice day out if the sun shines".

"Oh how wonderful!" Cynthia commented as they walked out of the sitting room. "That'll be a lovely day!"

Shelagh and Chummy found a quiet spot away from the field of play. They could still see Timothy behind the refreshment stall lifting, carrying and smiling as he doled out orange juice, lemonade and sandwiches to his schoolfriends and their parents. The sun was shining and the gently breeze made matters very comfortable indeed as they relaxed, both propped against a tree.

From his place still in his perambulator, however Freddie woke suddenly, crying and screaming, shattering the peace. Chummy stood up quickly to him, pulling back the blanket that covered him and scooping the boy up in her arms.

"Sshhhh" she said gently. "Its quite alright. Mummy's here. All of those nasty monsters have gone". Shelagh looked up, watching, seeing her friend entirely absorbed in comforting her child; gently swaying him, his cheek pressed to lips in a comforting kiss. The pang of something, perhaps jealousy or longing, quickly stabbed at her chest and departed with equivalent haste.

"One sometimes thinks he has dreams that disagree with him", Chummy said quietly, brushing away tears with her thumb as she brought the boy down to sit on her knee.

Chummy was about to say something more when Timothy appeared behind her holding a tray carefully.

"What ho Timothy! We have our own waiter service?"

Timothy smiled as they noticed the three glasses filled and the 2 plates of sandwiches.

"There's one for Freddie too. If he can drink it. The sandwiches are ham and cheese. I didn't know whether he was old enough to eat them but there's more there just in case and I took the tomatoes off" he concluded smiling.

"Thank you Tim" Shelagh replied, taking the tray from him and setting it between her and her companion.

"Tomatoes off?" Chummy asked quietly as they watched him walk back to the tent as he carefully avoided the dips and ruts in the grass.

"I cannot bear them!" Shelagh whispered. "Even the prospect of the taste does something peculiar to my insides!"

Chummy smiled as she watched Timothy walk. "I do see what you mean about him becoming more independent!"

"Yes" Shelagh replied, wistfully. "Even three weeks ago I wouldn't have said he could have walked over here with that tray, balancing drinks and food. It's amazing what makes you think".

Chummy nodded. "Oh hello!" Chummy said, as her son stirred. "Somebody heard the word 'food'!"

Shelagh saw a pair of doleful eyes. "Is he alright having these?"

"Yes he's fine", Chummy replied, as her son set about the bread that had been passed to him, chuckling to herself as Shelagh tucked a serviette into the collar of the boy's jumper.

"Lemonade or orange?" she asked.

"I'll have whatever is left", Chummy replied. "But Young Sir would prefer the orange juice". Shelagh looked at her quizzically.

"I think he's developed a penchant. I craved oranges and orange juice something inexcusable when I was pregnant. I think Peter thought I was losing my mind".

"Are cravings really that strong?" Shelagh asked curiously, deliberately taking the lemonade.

"It was bordering on horrific!" she joked. "Peter would have to go to the market every day without fail on the way back from work. He forgot once and the moment he stepped into the house he just looked at me, turned tail and went back again! I don't think he could stand the sight of oranges by the end of it all. It lasted until 2 days before I went into labour!"

"What did labour feel like?" Shelagh asked suddenly. She had witnessed many births in her time but to be on the receiving end was something she could not particularly imagine.

"Do you know, one has no idea!" Chummy replied. "I don't remember it. Not one second!"

"Really?"

"I remember Dolly being in labour and I have vague recollections of getting back to Nonnatus but after that? No; nothing until waking up from the anaesthetic and by that time I had had so much morphine I barely knew who I was".

"I suppose Nature makes us forget it" Shelagh replied. "Wants us to forget something traumatic so we do it again and again to stop us dying out".

"I would like to have known whether I could have done it. Whether my body would let me do it", Chummy replied, thinking back. "But I will never know now". She had had that news broken to her soon after Freddie had been born – she would have no choice to deliver by section for her next child for fear of it happening again. Thankfully she had been told she could still have another one and that did comfort her somewhat.

"I suppose that its easier for me" Shelagh said, picking away at a sandwich she had been quietly dismantling. "I'll never have to wonder because I know I'll never experience it so there is almost no point in wasting strength in worrying".

"Have you thought more about seeing a Doctor?" Chummy knew she was pushing the point but if anything, she always tried to keep faith.

"I do suppose it would be possible to explore the possibility. I could have certainty and then I would know and I could put it away in the 'never meant to be' box; not wonder when I fall ill whether it is morning sickness and it will probably, simply, be Influenza or something I've eaten that disagreed with me. One day I might just forget and our childlessness might be the norm". She silently took up her drink.

Chummy shifted trying to get comfortable, adjusting her son.

"Are you alright?" Shelagh asked.

"Yes" she replied. "He's sitting on my scar and is an absolute dead weight sometimes".

"Is it still causing pain? After all this time?"

"Up and down lifting things; sitting funny. I don't like to ask Peter to lift a toy from the floor or carry chairs when I'm capable most of the time. He is more keen on walking than being carried now too so that helps". Chummy stopped. "I do dread the curse now".

She saw Shelagh pause. "I ache for that pain. I really do".

"Nothing?"

"Nothing to write home about" Shelagh replied. "When I was ill, I just thought that the interruption was because I was ill and well, no-one needs to examine a Nun to see if she can have a child or not. It wasn't something that crossed my mind and well, these things_ can_ take their time and even before things were, well, erratic but I never thought..."

"Did Patrick not say anything?"

"I er…." Shelagh paused, feeling embarrassment creep over her skin, yet craving another woman to talk to; someone who would understand the relationships of husband and wife.

"One won't say anything", Chummy assured her.

"I did struggle with the familiarity of it all first" she breathed relief fluttering in her stomach and not having to withhold how apprehensive she had been of those first few weeks and months as Mrs Turner. "That's probably why Patrick didn't really notice. I thought as a Doctor he might have questioned me as I became….more accustomed".

"But he didn't?"

Shelagh shook her head. "We had no experience of each other but I knew in my heart I could not walk down that aisle having breached what little promises I had left". She paused. "You did what was right for you and I had to do what was right for me".

"And it should have been no other way" Chummy replied. "As much as I reflect, I am glad I….." she paused. "_Got to know him a little_ before we got married. It wasn't so much of a shock to the old system and knew a little of me to. Peter just knows its that time if I have phenacetin in my handbag".

"He goes in your handbag?!" Shelagh replied.

"Yes" she replied, not thinking it might be seen to be unacceptable. "Well if he can find his way in there sometimes from the amount of Fred's gubbins I carry about with me!"

Shelagh smiled quietly.

"Shelagh" her friend said. "There is no normal. I realise that now. What is right for you is right for you".

"Do you think you might be able to help me see a doctor?" Shelagh asked, having chewed the prospect over in her mind.

"You know I will. Dr Clarke was always so lovely to me that I am sure he could suggest something. They might be able to at least have a look; a little operation".

"Patrick would have to sign the consent form" she replied bluntly. "I would have to tell him".

"Yes" Chummy said, realising that neither had the legal authority to even sign a form. "Of course".

"Isn't it just so odd we have no control over what happens to our bodies? We conceive, or try to, carry the child, give birth. We are all controlled by men. When we need help with that child, its men that decide" Shelagh replied, angered slightly by the seemingly unending way that women were beholden to the male population.

"If we have another Peter will just sign the consent form for the operation and that will be that. It will annoy me something peculiar", Chummy said, the thought rankling for a moment too.

"But in your case it doesn't bear thinking about if you didn't have that operation".

"I know. One knows there is a higher purpose for it and yes, I do understand. Freddie needs a mummy and how I feel, well, it doesn't really matter, does it? The prospect of me having another operation against him not having a Mummy, well it pales into insignificance".

Shelagh nodded. It did certainly do that. That boy, snuggled up to his mother now, but without her? Where would he be?


End file.
